"Trying does not adequately describe the constant terror of being discovered and then burned like your grandmother."
"I am sorry for Grandma's death, but that does not mean I must be forced into choosing a husband and spending my life behind these walls."
"Not just any husband, he must be the chosen one."
"A man with a pure heart who calls to you ... I know the proverb, Mother."
"Only he would have the bloodline that would bring healthy girls into this world to hold the ancient powers.” Adela shifted a stray hair from Gavenia's face, and her voice softened. “I cannot cast the spell, only you can."
Gavenia stepped away from her mother and averted her eyes. “I will not, Mother. Can you not accept that I do not like men?"
"You need not be afraid of them, my dear. The chosen one will not hurt you."
Shaking her head, she groaned, “I do not want a husband. Why can Callum not be the one to pass on the powers? No doubt his betrothed will be a strong lass, surely their heirs would produce another Celtic witch."
"I love your brother, but I cannot rely on his blood to sustain our powers. You know he has yet to show any signs of Celtic influence. The true magick resides in women and each generation holds an extra gift."
Her mother's eyes watered, “If I could have had more babies then I wouldn't need to burden you ... but alas..."
Gavenia turned, and placed her arms around her mother's slim shoulders.
"'Tis not your fault, Mother. The fates have chosen for you to only have two children."
Adela smiled through moist eyes. “And I bless Arianrhod Goddess every day for you both.” She touched Gavenia's face. “Perchance, I might still have another baby. Your father and I do not lack for encouragement."
"Oh, Mother!” Gavenia pushed away. “I wish not to be aware of those things."
The tinkle of her mother's giggle washed over Gavenia and she smiled in return. In times like these Gavenia saw her mother still held the presence of youth. “One day you will find a man that will make your blood heat with a mere glance and when you do, your life will be charged with a magick that goes beyond your powers."
"I do not think that will happen, Mother."
A mischievous glint shone in Adela's eyes. She grasped both Gavenia's hands and took a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she chanted beneath her breath.
"Mother, what are you doing?"
She continued to chant.
Gavenia squirmed. She did not want magick conjuring the chosen one into her life. She was not ready to die.
"Mother, you need not do this."
"Shh.” Adela chanted again and then stopped, the air crackled with energy as a blue, round light floated down from the rafters in between the two women.
"Show me a sign of who will win my daughter's heart."
"Mother!"
The orb stretched into a shield of the Robert's clan. The honorable wolf glowed bright and strong.
Gavenia said, “You see, it is of our clan. This is a sign I will not marry."
The image changed and Gavenia felt her heart beat increase. A black shadow snaked around the shield, transforming the noble crest to a demonic boar. Malevolent eyes glowed while sharp teeth dripped with dark red blood. The shadow exploded, forcing the witches apart.
Fear gripped Gavenia, twisting her insides. She glanced at her mother, whose panicked face reflected her own.
Adela gathered Gavenia into her arms. “I will not let anything hurt you."
"Dark forces surround the chosen one. How could I summon him now when he would bring death to our clan?"
"We do not know that."
Gavenia pulled away from the warm embrace. “Mother, do not act innocent. You and I both felt the power of evil."
"Perhaps the chosen one needs help."
"I would not help a stranger if it meant the clan is in peril."
"The chosen one is no stranger, he is your family. The one destined to bring you love and happiness."
"I will not do it."
"You must summon him. You must produce an heir at any cost. The future of good magick is at stake."
Tears wet Gavenia's face, unable to hold the raw emotion inside, she cried, “I cannot.” Running out the door, she ignored her mother's concerned voice that called after her.
* * * *
"Tell me, who am I,” Tremayne slammed the heavy door behind his voluptuous sex maid and she jumped from the noise. Wringing her hands she walked further into his chamber, no doubt to put distance between his anger and herself.
Coira MacKinnon maybe a scheming, lying whore, but she knew when to retreat.
She pivoted toward him, her auburn hair tumbling around her shoulders as her hazel eyes lowered. “You are Laird Tremayne Campbell, chieftain of the clan, son to Lady Torella and the great dark sorcerer of this castle."
"I am glad you remembered, Coira.” Tremayne went to his chest beneath the tall window and opened the timber lid. Without looking at her, he continued, “So tell me why you disobeyed my command?"
"Master, I wish not to leave you,” she pleaded and ran to his side. She went to place her hand on his shoulder, but in the last moment, retreated. “I pray you. Send one of the old crones in my stead."
He straightened and pulled out a long whip. “Mayhap, your loyalties need to be prompted as to who is your laird."
Coira blinked, her lips curving into a smile of anticipation as she stared at the whip in his hand. “How may I assist you?” She began to unlace her ruby corset and threw it to the side, eagerness shining in her eyes.
"I know you like the whip, Coira. But this time I will not use it on you until you plead for forgiveness."
"Please do not tease me, Master.” She lifted a calico chemise over her head; her pert breasts jutted proudly, the peaks hard and erect. Tremayne felt his member rise, throbbing beneath his kilt.
His hands cupped her breasts and she groaned. Curly, copper hair cascaded over soft shoulders while Coira arched her back, pushing her chest forward.
"I would do anything for you my laird. I beg you to forgive my impertinence."
Taller than the average man, Tremayne looked down his nose at the contrite maid. “You will offer your services to Lady Gavenia of the Roberts clan."
Coira raised her head and scrunched her nose. “I could be of more use to you in your bedchamber my laird. Do not punish me by sending me away."
Tremayne chuckled nastily, and distanced himself from the sex maid, releasing the sexual energy he wrapped around his lovers.
Eerie, cool air surrounded his sex maid. Smiling, he watched bumps on her delicate skin. Contact with him brought women to submission, but taking that contact away sent them into a state of uncontrollable wanting. A deadly thirst for something only he could quench.
Turning, Tremayne looped the whip around his neck and walked over to the wooden table to pour a chalice of red wine. “I grow weary of your whining.” Taking a sip of the tart liquid, he studied Coira's voluptuous curves. Her body had given him much pleasure, and the sexual energy he needed for his powers to increase. But he grew restless for something, and he knew not what.
"Perhaps it is time to send you back to your father. I know he could use your help in the fields,” he offered.
"Nae, my laird."
She ran toward him and then halted, with sense enough to know if she touched him now, she would regret it. She backed away and lowered her head. Tremayne pursed his lips at her wisdom. She knew he did not like to be touched unless instructed to do so.
The light surrounding Coira's aura was dark red, impatient to feel the sting of his whip. Some woman liked to be caressed with a tender hand while others, like his sex maid, were stimulated by power and violence. Either way, Tremayne absorbed their energy when they climaxed.
Replacing the goblet, he slowly pulled the whip from his shoulders and cracked the leather bind near her feet. The sharp sound made her body jolt, and the energy surrounding her increased with sexual tension.<
br />
"You will report to me on everything Lady Roberts does."
Coira nodded, her eyes glazed with lust and submission. Grabbing the back of her neck he turned her toward the bed and threw her face down, her bare backside exposed to him.
With a flick of his wrist the whip lightly snaked across her flesh and she groaned.
"Who her companions are."
The whip cracked in the air.
"And where she rides."
This time, the thin leather cut lightly into her flesh.
"Oh,” she moaned. “Aye, it will be done. Please punish me again."
Tremayne smiled, the scent of her arousal reached him and he breathed with satisfaction. There was nothing more intoxicating than a woman's nectar. He ran the handle of the whip up the length of her inner thighs until he reached the apex.
"Spread your legs further apart,” he commanded, his tone brooked no argument.
She complied and he rubbed the handle up and down her slick wet lips. A muffled sound came from the bedcovers while she wiggled against the whip.
His cock pulsed against the rough fabric of his kilt, but he ignored the constrained ache. Tilting the handle, he slowly eased it inside the sex maid. Backwards and forwards, he watched Coira's aura change from red to purple, her arousal increasing. Soon, very soon, she would give him his life force.
He increased the speed of his wrist.
"Take my whip. Take it!"
"Aye,” she screamed, her body enveloping the handle further inside. She shrieked and came with an explosion, her body shuddering with pleasure. Sizzling energy gathered around her like a glowing cloak. The purple light crackled as it filled Tremayne's body, creating a mystical sensation beyond any physical pleasure. He quickly pulled out the handle and kneeled behind her. Biting his lip with frustration, he lifted his kilt and drove into her warm, pulsating core.
Thoughts of the Celtic witch fueled his anger and lust. Harder and harder he pushed inside Coira, punishing his sex maid in the witch's stead.
But it was not enough.
Soon, very soon he would be in a position to spill the blood of Lady Gavenia Roberts.
* * *
Visit www.resplendencepublishing.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.
The Last Celtic Witch [Celtic Series Book 1] Page 12
